


Forbidden Fruit

by sailorgreywolf



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers, Latin Hetalia - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-23
Updated: 2016-12-23
Packaged: 2018-09-11 06:53:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8964088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sailorgreywolf/pseuds/sailorgreywolf





	

Spain was sitting on a soft couch and had a copy of a new novel in his lap, but he wasn't paying very much attention to the words. It was some fantastic story about a confused man jousting windmills, but at the moment Spain couldn't find himself caring. He had decided to bring all of his colonies to the palace that the Moors had built at Granada to let them enjoy the summer heat and the lavish pools. It wasn't particularly Christian to allow his young colonies to play in the fountains and pools, but Spain could allow some indiscretion for today. He was not going to rule only with fear. He could allow for some frivolity. He told himself that as long as he was watching, they couldn't do anything that really violated his rules.

So, he was attempting to read a book while the young boys splashed around in the water. It was fascinating watching the way they socialized with each other though. If not for Spain, would these boys ever have met each other? He doubted they would have. They would have stayed in their tribal conclaves, the Aztec and the Incan never even coming into contact with each other.

The boys he had taken from the Incan empire seemed to be close, even if the youngest seemed a little distant. They were engaged almost entirely with each other. There was probably some comfort and familiarity in having a brother who understood your culture. But, perhaps the youngest was sired by someone else; he seemed so different than his brothers.

Spain was listening carefully to hear if they slipped into their native tongue when speaking to each other. The others did not have the same slips because they knew no one else would speak their tribal language. It was dangerous for them to cling to their tribal roots. He also would not understand what they said, and that had its own danger. Spain had only bothered to learn a few words in Nahuatl, simply so that he could personally correct New Spain.

But, the times where New Spain would search for a word and only come up with the Nahuatl were becoming fewer and farther between. The boy was picking up both Spanish and Latin very quickly. So quickly that he was starting to read his way through Spain's library. His Spanish was accented with the over annunciation of his native tongue, but it was understandable and pleasing to the ears. Some of the others were not making the same progress. Spain was right in his first judgment: New Spain was special. The others were gifted in their own ways, but the little Aztec boy had carved out a special place in Spain's heart.

Spain scanned the pools, looking for his favorite colony. At first, he didn't seem him anywhere. Then, he noticed a form under the glistening water. As he watched, New Spain broke the surface. He shook his head, flinging small shining droplets of water from the tips of his raven black hair. Spain found himself transfixed as he watched the sun dance across the boy's hair.

When it settled, it clung to the amber skin of his neck. The black hairs accentuate the soft curves of the neck and the shoulder. New Spain reached up and ran one hand through his hair, as though attempting to reimpose order upon it. The gesture released a single drop of water that Spain couldn't tear his eyes away from. It traveled slowly down the skin of the boy's neck and then down between his shoulder blades. It skirted just left of the eagle tattooed on his skin, following the indent of his spine. Spain felt a heat mount his cheeks as he followed the drop of water even lower down the boy's back. The curve of his lower back looked tempting.

Spain shook his head as soon as the thought entered it. He wasn't thinking that and he certainly wasn't aroused. But, the warmth had set into his skin was not dissipating. There was a certain level of discomfort to it. Spain put down his book and tried to concentrate on the logical reasons he should not be feeling what he was feeling. New Spain was little more than a child.

But, he had noticed the burgeoning muscles under the skin of the Aztec boy's back. It was a sure sign that puberty had at least partially set in. It was always harder to tell with countries because of how slowly countries matured. How had Spain not noticed that his colony had grown out of a child's body? It was as though he had turned his back and New Spain had become a lanky, beautiful teenager. Spain was no longer paying attention to any of his other colonies. His eyes were still on New Spain, who had made his way to the side of the pool and planted his hands on the side. He pulled himself up onto the side of the pool. The muscles of his arms bulged as he pulled himself up, confirming the strength in them. He was wearing thin pants, but they were wet and clinging to his legs. The boy might as well not be wearing anything, and that was not improving the thoughts that Spain was trying not to think.

It was clear that the boy was no longer the round faced child that Spain had taken from the ruins of Tenochtitlan. When did he grow up and get so irresistible? He had to be physically at least 15 or 16. Which, Spain noted with a rising sense of discomfort, was about the age he had become aware of his own sexuality. The thought, once it had dawned in his mind, propagated more. Perhaps his colony was not completely naive; perhaps he was already having the sensual dreams of adolescence. If so, Spain mused, who did he dream about?

New Spain had lay down on the smooth stone next to the pool, his eyes closed and his chest still bare. He appeared to simply be enjoying the sun on his bare skin. Usually, Spain would object to this state of undress, but at the moment he did not care. It gave his eyes license to wonder over the boy's body. New Spain had never exactly been soft, his mother's warrior legacy was clear in his build, but the muscles that had begun to develop were definitely new. They look delectable. Spain found himself wondering what the boy's amber skin tasted like.

Spain had not taken a lover since he had thrown off the Moors. He had sworn off whores because they were sinful and temporary. Queen Isabelle had chastised him about his whoring, and he had decided it best to be celibate until he could find a lover he did not have to pay. Perhaps that was why his mind was so far out of line. After all, the boy was what Spain thought was his type: lithe and beautiful with a touch of the exotic. But, there was an important difference that the part of his mind that always drove him to confession reminded him of: New Spain was an innocent who could be groomed. He could be taught how to please his colonizer.

The thought horrified Spain. He was not going to treat the boy as a concubine. He firmly reminded himself that he had meant to raise the child away from heathen influences, to cultivate a loyal colony. And yet, as Spain shifted the position he was sitting in, he realized that just watching New Spain had made his partially hard. He let out a slow breath, trying to calm himself. He carefully crossed his legs and tried to look anywhere but at New Spain's ample bare skin, which was shining with a very thin layer of water.

The friction of his change in position sent a wave of arousal through him. Spain put a hand over his mouth to make sure no sound slipped through. He was suddenly very glad that all of his colonies were occupied elsewhere. This feeling had blindsided him; only a couple hours ago he had been thinking of New Spain as the Aztec child he had saved. But, now he was realizing how little he had been noticing. Years had passed and he hadn't been paying attention to the way New Spain was changing. He had to question how he had been so oblivious to such beauty.

Looking away from the boy had not improved his degenerate musings. Without New Spain in his sight, his mind started to fabricate more appealing images. Spain bit into his own lower lip as the image of New Spain completely undressed, straddling him flashed across his mind. A moan he could only imagine echoed through his ears. He couldn't help but think of the way those young, supple limbs would be grasping for him, holding him tight.

Spain cursed himself; this was not what a good Christian should be thinking. New Spain was at least 10 years younger than him, and certainly not well versed in carnal relations. He knew that New Spain was past the age when mortal girls were considered marriageable. Would it really be such a sin to invite him to his bedroom of a single night? Yes, Spain argued to himself, it would be. It would be wrong to force himself on a child who may not even want his advances. Not every country shared Spain's taste for men, and it would be impossible to tell if New Spain did unless Spain watched him very closely.

It would be completely wrong, Spain reasoned, to force his colony to discover his sexuality before he was ready. The Moorish caliphate had done that to him by insisting at a certain age that it was about time Spain had a woman. Then there had been the whores, beautiful young women who would find their way into his room. He vividly remembered the first time one of them got undressed in front of him.

She had removed her sheer dress and let it fall to the floor. It was apparently an attempt to finally coax him into sex, arousing him with the sight of the naked female body. Spain felt the very old uncertainty and terror again as he thought back on it. He had just stood there, staring at her and actually hoping to feel something. The bible said it was a sin for a man to lay with a man, so young, naive Spain had hoped that he would feel something for a woman. But, nothing had come to him. In defeat he had picked up her dress and handed it to her, apologizing under his breath for not being able to do anything with her.

The memory of that encounter was enough to make sitting comfortable again. He blinked away from the haze of memories and returned to the moment. New Spain was still laying on the side of the pool, letting the summer sun kiss his skin. Spain couldn't allow him to continue to be so tempting. Spain cleared his throat in an attempt to sound as though he had not been contemplating ravishing his colony.

Then he called out, his voice ringing across the open area, "Alejo." New Spain immediately recognized his own name. His golden eyes opened and he turned over to look at his colonizer. There was a glimmer of fear in the boy's eyes, as though he feared he was in trouble. But, if Spain was angry he would have used his full name. To clarify his intention, Spain said, "Come here."

It was worded like an order, but it was a request. But, all of his colonies knew better than to deny him. New Spain quickly grabbed his shirt, which he had left not far from the side of the pool, and pulled it on. Spain was glad for it; he did not know if the boy would be able to recognize the look in his eye. It was better that all that skin was covered, so that Spain could not feel the urge to touch him.

But, there was an appeal to watching the way the boy walked. He had a coordination and grace that many would envy. It was clear that he had been taught to have an awareness of his body from a young age. The newly awakened part of his mind seemed to smirk at him and add, "That will make him even better in bed." Spain silenced it. This was not the time to be thinking that. New Spain was young and too innocent.

Only once the other was standing right in front of him did Spain realize he didn't have a plan. He had only asked New Spain to come over to force him to stand up and put on more clothing. The Aztec boy spoke in a voice that Spain only noticed now was starting to deepen, "Am I in trouble?" The question was verging on impudent, but the tone of it remained somewhat deferent.

Spain let it be since he was still trying to organize his own thoughts. His libido wanted to order New Spain to strip off all his clothing and climb onto his lap. But, that would be improper on several levels. Even if he thought New Spain would follow that order, and he did not, it would not feel right to have him here in front of all his other colonies. Spain was not an exhibitionist and it was not like him to show off his sexuality like a pagan emperor.

He answered the question with authority, even though he was not certain what he wanted, "No, but I want you to sit with me." To clarify the request, Spain gestured to the open spot next to him. New Spain looked slightly perplexed, but he acquiesced to the request without another question.

There was not that much space where Spain had chosen to sit, so the other was pressed against him. He could feel the moisture that still clung to the boy's skin, even through the shirt. The slight chill of it did nothing to cool the heat that was racing through Spain's skin. He wondered if it had been a mistake to invite New Spain to sit with him. Now, the temptation was even more real.

But, as Spain turned his head to look at his colony, he caught those deep gold eyes looking directly at him. For a moment, he was reminded of the way he had read emotions in those eyes when they had not had a language in common. Those eyes granted him some restraint; there was still something of the child in them. Spain couldn't steal that naiveté away. He decided firmly, he was going to wait until he got some indication that his colony was aware of his own sexuality before he made his move.

The Spaniard spoke again, "But, you should know not to parade around without a shirt. It is not proper." He neglected to mention that the reason he wanted New Spain to be better dressed was to reduce his own improprieties. The boy was looking confused, as though he had not expected to be reprimanded.   
As was his nature, New Spain asked, "But why?"

It was usual for him to question orders. It was never intentionally defiant. It was just New Spain's nature, he was curious and voracious. Every time he questioned something, Spain could tell that he genuinely wanted to know the reasoning behind it. He refused to take anything on faith, except for faith. Spain wouldn't usually mind, but now he was scrambling to find a reason. He fell back on the answer that he knew would not spawn any more questions, "You do not want anyone thinking you are a sinner."

He stopped himself halfway through his explanation. He realized that he was still speaking to New Spain as though he was a child. But, as he had been observing today, his colony was no longer a child. Maybe it was time for him to trust the boy with more nuance. He shifted his explanation to include more of the truth, "It encourages untoward thoughts when you dress like a harlot."

The other nodded, but still looked slightly doubtful. He seemed to be grappling with something, and then he decided to speak, "But, I don't understand. Who is going to be thinking that about me?" Spain couldn't answer honestly, so he decided to evade. He reached over and brushed back a piece of wet hair off of New Spain's face. His fingertips felt like they were on fire as they brushed against his colony's skin. It was tempting to let his fingers trail on other parts of the boy's body. He already had a clear idea of how deliciously tempting the boy's chest looked.   
He said, "You should maintain a pious demeanor at all times. Earthly eyes aren't the only ones you need to worry about."

It was a lie, but Spain sounded convincing to himself. He knew that sins could be pardoned with the right penance, and he would certainly have to do some for what he was thinking. His personal confessor always granted him a way to absolve himself. But, the answer seemed to be enough to placate the young boy. He nodded again and then remained silent.

Spain decided to take a risk and put one arm around the other's shoulders. His heart was thundering so hard he could swear that New Spain could hear it. But, he didn't feel the other pull away from him, so he spoke as though there was not an unspoken feeling just beneath the surface, "Why don't you spend time with the other boys?"

This question was genuine. Spain had noticed that New Spain kept to himself far more than the others. He seemed to prefer his own company to that of other colonies. Even the initial friendship with Cuba that had opened him up has withered in comparison to the boy's passion for books. There were times, becoming all the more common, that Spain would find the boy perched like an eaglet on the very edge of a chair, his eyes fixed intently on a book. This might be part of the reason his Spanish was improving so rapidly. But, it puzzled Spain that a boy of his age was spurning company.

He waited for the answer, and watched his colony's face as he did. He was noticing the fine details now, the parts that were clearly aging, the parts that still bore a strong resemblance to his mother. She had been like Penthesilea, beautiful but savage. Spain had been aware of it then, but he had never truly appreciated it until he realized how beautiful her features were in her son's face. But, he was beginning to develop the sharpness of maturity.

New Spain responded, "They are so-" He paused for a moment, and it was as though he had been speaking without thinking. He looked up at Spain, his eyes seemed to be pleading for understanding. Spain decided it was best to let the boy say what he wanted. If what he was about to say was wrong, Spain would correct it then.  
He said, trying to coax out the rest of the sentence, "What are they?"

A possible answer occurred to him. Were the others jealous of the attention he was personally giving to New Spain? Were they driving him to solitude because of it? He quickly added, "Are they being cruel to you?" If the answer was affirmative, then Spain would meet out justice on his other colonies. They had no right to torment New Spain.

But, to Spain's relief, the boy shook his head and attempted to answer the question, "They are not. Well, Peru doesn't like me, but I do not care. They're all so simple. They talk about the same things all the time and it bores me." He stopped speaking and his pleading eyes met Spain's. For a moment, the Spaniard could see the word that the boy didn't dare to say. What New Spain wanted to say was, "They are uncivilized." He wouldn't say it though, because he was aware that the same words had been used to describe him.

Spain had to concede, only to himself, that the boy had a point. In comparison to some of the islands, the Aztec empire had been far more advanced. But, it was better not to let New Spain know that. Instead, he watched as the other uncrossed his legs, which sent another flash of heat across his skin. He steeled his resolve to keep his colony chaste for now, regardless of what he was craving.

He picked up the book he had been trying and failing to read and used it to change the subject. He said, "You're very clever. I can see why the other boys bore you. But, if you're not going to socialize then you should stay with me and improve your Spanish." The reason for the day's outing was to allow his colonies some indulgence for the day, but watching New Spain's body was far too tempting. If not for this new feeling, he would not care about New Spain's aloofness. He felt a certain reluctance at the idea of letting the boy leave him now. The reason for keeping him here was little more than a ruse.

New Spain smirked and there was something exceptionally familiar about it. When he spoke, there was still the self-assured superiority of a young prince in it, "You know I don't need it. If you're worried about someone, it should be Peru."   
If it were not so amusing, Spain would have taken issue with the arrogance. He didn't bother to correct it though, instead he responded, "Peru's tudor is responsible for him. I am responsible for you. I am happy with your progress, but that is no reason to stop now."

He reached over and placed the book he had been reading in New Spain's lap, letting his hand linger on the Aztec boy's leg a moment longer than it should have. He could feel the warmth of the boy's skin just beneath the fabric. It had been so long since Spain had felt warmth like that next to him in bed. He had almost forgotten how good it felt to have the warm body of a young man pressed against him. That was enough of a reason to keep New Spain right next to him.

He pointed to the beginning of a passage that he had not yet read and said, "Start here and read aloud." With one more slightly confused look, New Spain complied. His voice rolled over the words annunciating all the syllables, and it was very pleasing. There was a cadence to the way the boy's voice rose and fell. As he realized what the story was about, New Spain started adding emotional inflection. The story that had seemed quite dull before was suddenly quite interesting. Spain smiled and tightened his hold on his colony. In the soft light, the boy's face was all the more stunning. It was animated by the emotion of the story. This moment was pleasant and warm, and enough for now.  
______________________________________________________________________________

Spain was laying out parchment to compose yet another letter to England. This one, like many of the others was a polite veiled threat. If the man thought he was going to become an empire with his piracy, then he was very mistaken. Then, a sharp knock sounded on his door. It was early in the morning and Spain hadn't been expecting any interruption.

But, if one of his colonies needed to speak to him that desperately, then he would allow it. If it was not one of his colonies, then it was a mortal messenger, which meant that something even more important was happening. Either way, Spain could not turn the person at the door away. He said, "Come in."

The door swung open timidly, and Cuba walked through it. The boy had never been as confident or bold as other colonies. His fear of Spain had been enough to keep him from misbehaving at all. He had also been useful in pulling New Spain out of his grief. But, his presence here was puzzling. He very rarely had a reason to talk to Spain. He was never in trouble and he never had complaints about anything. The only way to clarify his reason for being here was to ask, "Good morning, Carlos. Do you need something?"

The boy looked up at him, which was a strange occurrence in itself, and Spain realized that he looked really troubled. He immediately corrected his question, "What is wrong?"   
Cuba chewed on his lower lip for a minute before finally speaking, "I don't want to get anyone in trouble, but I think you should know."

He paused and looked down again. Spain let out a sigh, if this was important then he wanted the boy to just get it over with. It was clear that he was informing on another colony, and Spain welcomed it. He said, trying to calm the boy, "The punishment will be sufficient for the crime, as always. I am fair."   
This did not appear to really reassure Cuba, but the boy decided to speak anyway, "I know how much you like Alejandro, but I can't keep his secret."

Spain gasped. He never would have guessed that his favorite colony was the one in trouble. Despite his arrogance and occasional impudence, New Spain was not one to actually break the rules because he valued his privileges. Now, Spain was intrigued. He could not imagine what the boy had possibly done. Oblivious to the way that Spain was reacting, Cuba continued speaking, "He should know what the bible says about sodomy, but that didn't seem to matter to him."

Spain felt his mouth fall open in shock. He had been wishing for this day for quite a while now, but there was still something surreal about actually hearing the words. But there was something else that sent a burning jealousy through him. There was no way that Cuba could levy accusations of sodomy without two people involved. New Spain had to have done something without another colony. The idea that someone else had taken the boy's virginity made Spain's blood boil. He had thought of that right as exclusively his.

Trying to hide how angry he really was, Spain said, "Tell me exactly what happened. I want to know every detail." Cuba looked even more scared than when he walked in.   
He was withering beneath Spain's gaze and immediately started to spill all the details, "We were just playing some games. It's all Enrique's fault. He stole some of your wine and we all drank some of it."

Spain felt an angry spasm go through his muscles, causing him to grimace. He had told all of his colonies that wine was only for communion until they were older. And it was for precisely this reason. Wine could be used to ply ones senses.

But, there was something more important at issue. Cuba was continuing to tell the story, "But Enrique had other intentions. I thought Alejandro would push him away when he kissed him. But he didn't." Spain hissed to himself. Of course it had been Colombia. The boy was a constant problem, and he did have the slyness of a fox. It was like him to use wine to seduce New Spain. The thought only added to the anger in his blood. But, at least it was nothing more than a kiss.

He expected this was the end of the story, but Cuba kept talking, "That was about a week ago. I thought it was just the alcohol. But last night I heard Enrique's voice in Alejandro's bed."

Spain clenched his hand into a fist on the table. He didn't need to hear more. He knew what young men did with each other when they both shared an attraction. His own imagination had given enough ideas about what he would do if he was alone with New Spain. He said, his voice no longer hiding his raging jealousy, "That is enough!"

He stopped when he saw the way that Cuba cringed away. He hadn't meant to scare the boy for giving him information. If anything, he was grateful. So, he softened his voice and said, "I have heard enough. Thank you for coming to me, Carlos. Tell both Enrique and Alejandro that I want to talk to them."   
Cuba didn't immediately follow the order, instead he said, "Please don't be too hard on Alejandro. It isn't his fault. Enrique is taking advantage of him."

Spain smiled softly, thinking about what avenues this opened. New Spain was no longer an impressionable virgin; he could be seduced. Even if he had already lost his virginity, it had been with a boy his own age. It was probably all clumsy touches and uncertainty. An older, more experienced lover could make him feel things he could hardly imagine.

Spain said, "Don't worry about Alejandro. I will treat him kindly." He waited until Cuba had left the room before licking his lips and reflecting on the news. Although the thought of Colombia touching New Spain made him feel a raging jealousy in the pit of his stomach, it provided him with an affirmation that he needed. New Spain was discovering his own sexuality and he did enjoy male company. Now, there were no barriers, no reason to hold back. Yes, he would be kind to New Spain when he confronted the boy. More than that. He would show the boy what he was really missing. There was nothing left to do now but wait.


End file.
